


The Dance of the Color Guard, Op. 64

by populardarling



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Marching Band, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Don't need to know anything about marching band to read, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Teen love, multi-chapter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26087119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/populardarling/pseuds/populardarling
Summary: Katniss and Peeta used to be best friends when they were kids, but now in high school, they're barely on speaking terms. It isn't until they are forced together as the titular star-crossed lovers for their marching band's field show that they will have to face their past mistakes and try to get along if they ever hope of defeating the notorious Capitol Height's Imperial Marching Crusaders in competition.It's all about winning and if that means pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark, so be it.But a lot can happen in six months.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 26
Kudos: 68





	1. Prologue: October

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! 
> 
> I'm here with a multi-chapter story on marching band! A huge shout out for those who have encouraged me to write this story and for my good friend Echoesofnewords for spitballing ideas with and for reading to make sure things make sense! All mistakes are mine.
> 
> This fic does not require any prior knowledge to marching band or music. I'll add any necessary terminology in the notes before every chapter! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

_**October** _

Had someone told Katniss six months ago that she’d be in the backseat of Peeta Mellark’s beat-up Saturn making out and hissing at him not to leave any noticeable marks on her neck, she would have asked what drugs they were on because no way in _hell_ would she be caught dead talking to him, let alone heavily making out and wondering when they could do this again. But here she was, shirtless and his hand trying— _failing_ —to unhook her bra as they both tried to catch their breath.

“Peeta,” she breathed, tapping his back lightly to grab his attention. “ _Peeta!_ ” He grunted against her, his mouth still sucking lightly at the nape of her neck, his face hidden by her unruly hair, when she slapped his back harder.

“I’ve gotta—rehearsal—!” His hands successfully unhooked her bra and his fingers lazily crawled up her spine, tracing light patterns as they went. A shiver ran through her as she tried —and failed—to detangle herself from him, but he kept muttering how they were fine against her skin and well, fuck it. She was far more interested in the way his hard body felt against hers right now, the way her heart squeezed and jumped every time his lips lightly pressed near her collarbone, than she’d ever be about hearing the latest color guard gossip during pre-practice stretches, or helping Miss Trinket pull out their equipment to the practice fields behind the school.

Holy shit. She was really making out in Peeta Mellark’s car.

If she wasn’t so caught up in _him_ —his touch, the way he always seemed to smell and taste like sugar and warm bread, that smile—she’d laugh about the surrealism of it all. 

If only he wasn’t so damn distracting.

She pulled his face up toward hers, already missing the medicinal taste of his chapstick in her mouth. Banning all thoughts of band rehearsal and gossipy color guards and whatever fucking thing Cato Martin and Marvel Baxter had to say to her tonight when she’d have to weave through their set with her handful of ribbon, Katniss smashed her lips to his, loving the way he held her in his lap like this. His arms felt like anchors, keeping her grounded when everything about this made her want to float away with the wind, his legs nice and warm against the cool October chill. She really could spend forever in this backseat.

Her phone alarm went off, reminding them both that rehearsal was going to start in 20 minutes and that they’d better get their asses to the band room or else Trinket and Abernathy would force them to run extra laps around the field for being late. Katniss was up to being a couple minutes late, though, happily ready to run those laps if it meant she could keep running her hands through his soft, curly hair—God, she loved his hair, a bit obsessed with it, really— but Peeta hated running and pulled them apart, reaching blindly behind her in search of her bra and shirt.

Moment. Over.

“Let’s stay here,” she suggested teasingly, pressing her face into the nape of his neck, her arms wrapping tighter around him. “Let’s ditch and go someplace and make out some more.”

His body shook when he laughed, a sound she used to find so grating only months ago, and he pulled her away, holding her bra in front of them. “I think they’d notice if their Romeo and Juliet were missing, don’t you think?”

She rolled her eyes, but accepted the bra, slapping his hands away when he tried to help with the hooks. He was _far_ too distracting.

“Quit touching,” she snapped, pulling her tank top over her head before crawling to the front seat to check how her hair looked in the mirror. She didn’t assume people still thought her and Peeta were still just casual friends, but she wasn’t going to kindle the flame any more than she had to by walking in the band room with any type of sex hair.

“Peeta!” Katniss scolded when she saw the red markings up and down her neck. “I told you to be careful!”

He had the audacity to laugh, grunting as his large frame crawled back into the driver’s seat. “It wasn’t my idea to have an impromptu make-out session right before rehearsal. Here,” he moved her long hair so that it hung loosely around her shoulders. “All gone.” And with a smile, he kissed the corner of her scowl.

“Not all gone!” she snapped. “How am I supposed to hide this during rehearsal?”

He shrugged and started the car, pulling out from the small alcove they liked to park in before rehearsals to talk and sometimes kiss. It was private from any prying eyes, which was ideal at first, but may be a dangerous thing now, since clearly Katniss felt more daring on what they could do before their 4-hour rehearsal began.

People were still getting out of their cars and milling into the side door that led straight into the band room when they found a spot on the far side of the parking lot. Checking to see if the coast was clear, Peeta pulled her over the console for one last kiss, her stomach flipping and squeezing yet again at how strong his hands felt against her cheeks. They were really pushing it on time, but Katniss deepened the kiss for one last moment before breaking away and shakily reaching behind her to open the door.

“See you in rehearsal,” she said, her voice a little unsteady. His smile was a little off kilter, one that probably matched her own, and gave her a friendly wave of goodbye. They never entered the building together, even when they were just forced-under-circumstances carpool buddies and had no potential gossip targets tattooed on their foreheads, but as she made her way up to the door, she couldn’t stop thinking about him and wondering if he was checking her out from behind. Normally the thought of someone checking out her ass would mortify her, but with Peeta…well…

A lot could happen in six months.


	2. April

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! I am back with another chapter. Thank you so much for those who have told me how excited they are to read this story. It's so encouraging to hear and I appreciate you all so much! Thank you thank you thank you! 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are mine and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Marching band/music terminology: 
> 
> Percussion: Musical instruments played by striking with the hand or with a handheld or pedal-operated stick or beater, or by shaking, including drums, cymbals, xylophones, gongs, bells, and rattles.

**_April—Six Months Earlier_ **

“Don’t be so obvious,” her music stand partner Leevy whispered in amusement, “but Peeta Mellark is staring at you again.”

“What?” Katniss looked straight up, not even pretending to be subtle, and locked eyes with the first chair trumpet player sitting directly across the room from her. His eyes widened for a moment, probably assuming she wouldn’t catch his stare with the clarinet section in front of him, but instead of looking away like a normal person would after being caught, Peeta Mellark smiled at her, his right eyebrow raising suggestively in question. Katniss gripped her flute and pointedly turned back to her music, knowing her section would be criticized next on their sloppy runs.

He liked to do that every so often during rehearsal, look at her like she was some kind of joke that amused him. Get her all flustered with those stupid eyebrows and smiles. Leevy enjoyed pointing it out all the time, drawing kissy faces with their initials in hearts on their shared music that Katniss would then furiously erase because _what if someone saw_ _that?_ People in band were gossipy enough with who was dating whom and who broke up with whom.

She didn’t want anyone thinking she had a crush on  _ Peeta Mellark _ .

Mr. Abernathy, their band director, stepped between them on his podium, breaking any eye contact Peeta could make on her, and tapped his baton on his stand to grab everyone’s attention. “Okay, listen up, ya mangy teens! A few announcements before you all age me once more with your apparent lack of practicing. First being, next season’s field show—”

“Oh, can I say it?” Miss Trinket, their assistant director, asked, already pushing Mr. Abernathy off the podium. Miss Trinket was a small wispy woman, her height mainly due to the massive heels she sported no matter the season, but despite her title and small stature, it was clear to anyone with eyes who was in charge of any decision making for the band program.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, smiling brightly as the room waited with anticipation. 

Marching season was one of the biggest things they did in the school year. Everyone looked forward to it and a strong field show could finally mean getting Athens Ridge High’s Marching Gladiators to finals and beating the crap out of their arch rivals: the rich snooty Capitol Heights Academy’s Imperial Marching Crusaders.

Every year they always came so close to beating them, but Capitol Heights had the money for large expensive props and Athens Ridge did not. They were lucky enough to have been able to afford new marching uniforms a few years back, replacing the threadbare grey ones with sleek black and gold. Mr. Abernathy always reminded everyone that he didn’t care about winning, nor did he give a rat’s ass about Capitol Heights and all their achievements. All he cared about was that they performed to the best of their ability and marched off the field with pride, but Katniss wanted their band to  _ be  _ the best. Everyone in the Athens Ridge band did.

“Can I get a drumroll, please?” Miss Trinket asked, looking pointedly to Gale in the back.

Gale rolled his eyes, but started the roll on his snare drum.

“This year’s marching show is…” Another dramatic pause.

“Will you just tell them, woman? This ain’t the Oscars,” Mr. Abernathy snapped, sick of all her flairs and dramatics. “We’re doing  _ Romeo & Juliet _ . There. Now get off my podium.”

Miss Trinket held her ground, her pale features brightening under her anger, making her purple-streaked hair stand out more than usual. “Haymitch—!”

Everyone watched, entertained by yet another round of the two directors going at it once more. Katniss turned to look back at Gale, the head keeper of the betting pool, and he signed another two months before their directors would go at it like rabbits. She shook her head, laughing quietly to herself, and turned back to watch as the directors duked it out. 

* * *

“I’ve heard the music to this field show,” Leevy said after practice, cleaning out her flute. “It’s really pretty. I can see why Miss Trinket picked it.”

Katniss carefully tucked her flute back in its case, giving it one final shine before locking it shut. “You think Miss Trinket picked it?”

Leevy laughed and threw a pointed look over to where Mr. Abernathy sat slunk in his chair, stained coffee mug in hand as he scowled at some piece of paper. “I highly doubt Mr. Abernathy would choose a show like  _ Romeo & Juliet  _ without some heavy outside persuasion.”

She had a point there.

As they waited by the door, ready to book it the second the bell rang, Katniss and Leevy rolled their eyes at the chaos in front of them. Thresh Armstrong, a tuba player known for sneaking in toys from home, had brought out a foam football and had tossed it over to Johanna Mason, one of the smart ass percussionists, who almost crashed into the chimes trying to catch it. She held the ball up in victory and the guys around her hooted and hollered in applause. With a dramatic bow, she tossed it to Gale behind her, who caught it and called out for his girlfriend Madge to catch. Madge squealed in shock when the ball hit her in the back of the head, throwing the ball back at him in protest. 

“You’d think Abernathy would put a stop to that,” Leevy commented, laughing despite herself when the ball nailed Marvel Baxter in the face. “People can get hurt.” 

“Maybe he wants to see assholes like Marvel get hit in the face, too,” Katniss snorted, glad she got to witness it. “Do you think we’ll get to see Cato get hit in the face?” she asked, eyeing the bulky blond in the far corner with interest. 

“Doubt it.” Cato Martin was that stereotypical asshole who thought he walked on water and expected everyone to treat him as thus. And the sickening part was that people  _ did.  _ The school’s star quarterback was praised _ constantly _ in their school paper for his dedication to both the school’s athletic department and music department, despite being last chair in Symphonic Band and always being hounded for how bad he played by Mr. Abernathy. Despite his assholery, though, he always had a gaggle of followers around him, probably praising him for breathing. 

Katniss hated him so much, and it wasn’t just because they were locker neighbors and she was constantly having to shove him and whatever girl he was making out with off her own locker to squeeze in. Or that, since the 7th grade, he’s only referred to her as “Katnips Everslip” after a  _ very  _ unfortunate wardrobe malfunction at the community pool. Or even that time he taped rubber baby bottle nipples all over her locker sophomore year and only received a slap on the wrist by their dean, Mr. Flickerman, because  _ he didn’t realize how offensive it was  _ and _ he was so so sorry.  _ Yeah, Cato sucked and she hated him for all those things and more, but she hated him  _ most _ because Cato Martin was that entitled ass who just expected things to be given to him. He never faced any consequences and those were the worst kind of people.

Laughing at Marvel and his botched up nose, her eyes briefly caught Peeta’s and the amusement she felt seeing Marvel get nailed in the face vanished instantly. Every bully had that one lackey who wasn’t  _ really  _ an asshole, but was kind of one by association because he just went along with anything the bully did. Yeah, that lackey was Peeta Mellark. Which somehow made it even worse. She knew Peeta. Used to be friends with him in elementary school, back when your neighborhood friends were your whole world and nothing could come between you. Now he was just one of Cato’s goons who blindly followed whatever Golden Ass commanded. 

“Are you auditioning for color guard again?” Leevy asked, snapping Katniss’s attention back to her friend.

“Huh?”

Leevy’s eyes followed where hers had been and Katniss pretended not to notice the knowing smirk on her friend’s face, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve instead. “Are you trying out for color guard this year?” she asked again. 

“Of course.” Katniss flushed at her sure answer, but she always did color guard. It was kind of her thing, especially since Miss Trinket had singled her out freshman year, snatching 14-year-old Katniss off the practice field where she had been marching with her fellow flute players. “You’ve got the perfect arms,” Miss Trinket had told her and she’d been part of color guard ever since. 

“I’m hoping for captain, actually,” Katniss admitted, looking down at her beat-up sneakers. She hadn’t told anyone but Prim that, afraid she’d jinx it by putting it out in the universe too much, but going into senior year next season, she’d be the most experienced one auditioning. The odds were definitely in her favor, but the universe also had a tendency of fucking things up when she least expected it and she didn’t want to chance it.

Leevy sighed. “I wish you’d stay with the flutes. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to deal with  _ that _ ”—she pointed at the giggly flute players who were now fawning over Cato like lovesick puppies—"all by myself.”

Katniss gave her friend a sympathetic pat on the arm. “I’d rather shoot myself in the eye than have to deal with Golden Ass’ fan club. Why don’t you try out? You’re small, like me. I bet Miss Trinket would love that.” Their assistant director would be beside herself with joy at having another petite person in guard she could have tossed around. Miss Trinket was always complaining how there were too many tall girls nowadays and that it limited her “vision.” 

Leevy shook her head. “Oh, no. No, I don’t think I could ever do what you all do. Who would trust me to throw something in the air and expect me to catch it? And the way you did those handsprings for last year’s show?” She shook her head again in amazement. “I can’t even balance on one foot without falling. I’m nowhere near as talented as you.” 

Katniss’ cheeks darkened again at Leevy’s appraisal. Those handsprings were a bitch to grasp, she remembered, and the only reason she was the one doing them wasn’t because Trinket saw her as some talented goddess. No, it was just because everyone else was too afraid of doing them without any type of mat underneath them and Katniss wasn’t. She was about to tell her friend this—that yeah, she was pretty good with a flag and rifle, but all that can be taught and Leevy’s lack of gymnastic talent shouldn’t stop her from auditioning—when the foam football smacked her hard on the side of her head.

“What the hell?” She scanned the chaotic room for the culprit, rubbing at the spot where the ball hit. “Who threw that?” 

The culprit in question raised his hand apologetically and jogged over to pick the blue ball off the ground. Her hands balled into fists.

Peeta Mellark.

Of course.

“My bad!” he apologized, smiling down at her in that totally non-assery way that just pissed her off more. “I was trying to throw the ball to Glimmer and—” he started to explain, casually pointing behind him with his thumb.

“Your aim sucks that much?” she fumed, interrupting him. Glimmer was clear across the room by the other French horn players, far from where she and Leevy stood. “That could have hit my eye!”

There was a time, long ago, when she was once taller than him. She used to jokingly lean on Peeta while they waited in lines at school or the grocery store, calling him squirt and messing up his curly blond hair like his dad did, laughing when he’d scowl and pull away, hating that nickname. He always vowed he’d reach his growth spurt someday soon, just like his brothers, and she’d be sorry she ever called him squirt. Peeta stood almost a foot taller than her now, but she stood her ground. Glaring up at him, she considered using the old nickname, just to see if it rattled him

There was no way his aim was  _ that _ bad. They’d had the same gym class for almost six years now and she knew he wasn’t terrible. Peeta was one of those guys things just came naturally to, especially sports. For years she has watched as he made the winning pass in basketball, smacked a volleyball down to score like nobody’s business, swiped the puck in during hockey. She smelled bullshit. 

This was probably some stupid dare Cato or Marvel put him up to. She eyed Marvel off to the side, still rubbing his nose. He was probably pissed at her for laughing at him and thought it’d be funny watching her get nailed in the face, too.  _ Let’s see how hard the ball can bounce off Katnips Everslip’s tiny head!  _ she could hear the idiots snickering. Marvel always did have a small ego. And of course, like always, Peeta just went along with it because that’s what Peeta did. Just go along with anything his friends suggested, even if meant injuring an innocent bystander.

“So why’d you throw it at me?” she point-blank asked, crossing her arms. “Did Marvel put you up to it? Cato?” 

His face quickly went from apologetic smiles to annoyance, rolling his eyes at her sneer. “You know, Katniss, believe it or not, accidents do happen.”

“Accident? Please,” she scoffed. “I know you, Peeta. You don’t do accidents. Everything you do is strategically planned and executed with exact precision. So who dared you? It was Marvel, wasn’t it?”

He looked back at his buddies and laughed, shaking his head incredulously. “I’m touched that you think I’m so robotic, Katniss, truly, but believe whatever the fuck you want. I said it was an accident because it  _ was  _ an accident.” 

“Just answer the question.”

“I already did.” He leaned toward her, his dark blue eyes mocking, and tapped the football on her nose with a smug smile, walking back over to his friends. Some of the guys made kissy faces at his return, laughing when Peeta shoved them to quit it, but he was laughing along with them. 

Katniss’ nails dug into her palms as she watched them, briefly wondering if someone could be glared to death. God, they were the  _ worst. _

“Wow,” Leevy breathed, watching the trumpet players, too. “The sexual tension is strong today. Felt like I was in a movie just now.” 

She turned to her friend, incredulous. “Sexual tension? With  _ Peeta Mellark? _ ” She gagged at the thought. “Did you not just see him be a complete ass to me? He hit me with a football!”

“Yeah and apologized for it.” Katniss rolled her eyes at the low standard bar Leevy had for apologies. Peeta’s apology was obviously fake and what about that annoying ball tap to the nose? Did she not see how condescending that was? “You two are so going to bone by the end of this year.”

The bell rang before Katniss could choke out a rebuttal.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I'm hoping to have the next chapter up next Monday. Let me know what you think in the comments or come talk to me on tumblr. I'm Captainseaweedbrains. :)
> 
> Also, don't feel shy about asking about marching stuff. I am happy to supply as much needed information as needed! 
> 
> Until next time, my friends!


	3. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I'm back with another chapter! 
> 
> A HUGE thank you to everyone's comments for the last chapter!! It seriously made my day/week and I want to thank you so much for taking time to comment. It means a lot to me! 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are mine. I also want to mention that while I did marching band, I was never part of color guard/drumline. So if I get any terms wrong, my greatest apologies! 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!
> 
> Marching Band/Music Terminology: 
> 
> Fingering: A system of symbols (usually Arabic numbers) for the fingers of the hand (or some subset of them) used to associate specific notes with specific fingers....(2)Control of finger movements and position to achieve physiological efficiency, acoustical accuracy [frequency and amplitude] (or effect) and musical articulation
> 
> (Musical) Run: A bunch of notes played together at a faster speed

**_May_ **

Tryouts came and went with an excellent turnout, the best Katniss had seen ever. And in true Miss Trinket fashion, the assistant director had sought out the theatre and dance kids with the promise of getting to perform such an iconic story on the biggest stage they’ll ever have the privilege to perform on. Miss Trinket wanted the _drama,_ the _flair_ , and she didn’t have to go far to get it. 

Even more surprising was that they actually showed up and were actually pretty good. Katniss had had her doubts when seeing the likes of musical star extraordinaire Finnick Odair saunter into the gym where auditions were being held, wearing that arrogant smile she always saw on him, but after seeing what he and the other theatre and dance kids could do with a flag, she admitted she was wrong and focused her energy on earning her place as captain. 

Between her and Miss Trinket’s determination, Athens Ridge Marching Gladiators might have a good chance of finally beating Capitol Heights this year at PSU! 

“We’re looking promising,” she told Leevy as they put together their instruments. It was the day after final rounds of auditions and she couldn’t stop thinking how at the end of today, Miss Trinket would post who was on the team and Katniss would finally know if she was made captain or not. She had done her best, she kept telling herself, and now it was out of her hands. The wait was killing her, though, and her poor bladder was taking most of the brunt, the constant need to pee every two minutes distracting her in all her classes today. 

Had she proven to Miss Trinket that she was enough to be captain? 

Her legs twitched closed, the need to pee returning.

“You should have seen Finnick Odair twirl a rifle,” Katniss said to distract herself. “It was insane how good he is! I always thought he was a bit full of himself, but maybe he has a right to brag. I’m pretty sure Miss Trinket’s going to use him as one of the spotlight guards.”

Leevy’s eyes widened, her thick-rimmed glasses sliding down her nose a bit. Her crush on the performer was not an unknown fact to Katniss. “Oh, do you think she’d have him play Romeo? I bet he’ll be Romeo. He’d make an incredible Romeo.” 

Katniss snorted. “I’m sure he’d be up to the challenge.” Finnick Odair _not_ wanting the titular role would come as more of a shock to her. Miss Trinket hadn’t revealed much about how she wanted to choreograph the show, but if last season’s _Cirque du Soleil_ and _Alice Through the Looking Glass_ the season before were any indications of how she envisioned next season’s show, she would be using color guard to visually tell the story of the star-crossed lovers. Miss Trinket always had “big big _big_ plans” for them all. There was no way she’d pass up on someone talented like Finnick. 

Mr. Abernathy gave the two minute warning before rehearsal started up and the girls leaned toward each other to tune their flutes. As they made adjustments, Katniss wondered who _would_ play Finnick’s Juliet. Madge, maybe? She was a good height and her years of ballet served her well, being the lead spotlight guard two years in a row. Or Glimmer? She grimaced at the thought of Glimmer Macklemore being the lead spotlight, believing it would go straight to her head. Glimmer was by far one of the worst human beings Katniss has had the misfortune of knowing all these years, but the girl was graceful. “Like a swan on water,” Miss Trinket was known for saying about Glimmer’s talent.

 _I hope it’s Madge_ , Katniss thought, glancing slightly over at her friend who sat further down the row from her, Madge’s cheeks slightly puffed as she tuned her oboe. Yes, Madge would make an incredible Juliet.

* * *

All her thoughts and worry over color guard went away during what ended up being a long and brutal rehearsal. It was hard worrying over who’d play Juliet to Finnick’s Romeo when Mr. Abernathy was out for blood. He was yelling at everyone today, not pleased that they had a concert in another week and sounded like a beginning band. What made the rehearsal even worse was much of his agitation was directed at her and the two solos she had. Over and over he made her play in front of the whole band, walking her through the notes, asking her snidely who controlled the tempo. By the time he threw up his arms in defeat, her face was a completely different shade.

“Sign up for a practice room, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy told her after her sixth attempt at a difficult run. “And maybe work on your fingerings instead of drooling over Finnick Odair, huh?” He moved his attention to his next victims and was just as merciless.

Slumping low in her seat, her throat tight with choked back tears, Katniss focused hard on her music, pretending she was just practicing when really it took all her strength not to cry. Snickers from the brass section could be heard, or maybe she was just paranoid that the whole band was laughing at her. Either way, no matter how hard she kept her attention on her music, forcing back tears from spilling over, she couldn’t hide how dark her face must look right now. Mr. Abernathy’s words played over in her head, causing her cheeks to warm even more. From embarrassment or anger, she wasn’t sure. The man was never one to mince words and was known for his sour temper, but this was the first time he’d ever taken it out on her. And he thought her, one of his most dedicated players, as nothing more than a teenage girl drooling over boys. 

She’d never hated the man more than in this moment.

“Hey,” Leevy nudged her, face sympathetic. “You okay?” 

Katniss stiffly nodded, afraid if she said anything, she’d break and start to cry, and that was _definitely_ something she didn’t want to do in front of the whole band. 

“He’s being an ass today,” her friend whispered in comfort, playfully bumping their knees together. “You’re his best player and he knows it. He’s probably just mad because Coin took away the pizza buffet in the cafeteria.” Katniss gave a halfhearted smile, knowing her friend was just trying to make her feel better, but Mr. Abernathy was at least right about her playing. She really did need to practice more.

“Okay, we’re calling it today,” Mr. Abernathy sighed, slamming his scorebook closed. “It’s clear no one’s practiced since yesterday and it’s wasting my time. I better hear improvement tomorrow, or I’m going to have everyone play their part and have your whole semester grade be based off that.” 

“Practice, practice, practice!” Miss Trinket trilled from the back of the room, typing at the computer. “We want to be the best, don’t we?” Mr. Abernathy gave her the stink eye, like he wanted to argue her statement, but waved his hand, reminding everyone not to leave the band room until the bell rang.

“Well that was brutal,” Leevy joked halfheartedly, her eyes still looking at Katniss with pity. Katniss looked away, unable to stomach her friend’s obvious sympathies. She’d received enough of _that_ look to last an entire lifetime.

“Can’t wait until he starts threatening laps,” Katniss mumbled, her throat still tight. She just wanted to leave. Run to a bathroom stall to collect herself, but it’d be too obvious and the likes of Cato and Marvel calling her a crybaby kept her seated.

* * *

They didn’t often have so much time to lounge around, especially before a concert, but Katniss took the opportunity to catch up on homework she’d been neglecting, too stressed about tryouts to bother with algebra and chemistry. Feeling like everyone was still watching her, waiting for her to crack, she tucked herself in the back locker room, between two instrument lockers, out of sight from her classmates. The space was tight and not the most ideal of places to hide, but it blocked out a lot of the noise from out front and let her take a few deep breaths in. She couldn’t cry until she got home, but at least it didn’t feel like her tears were strangling her any more. 

Taking out the beat up copy of _A Tale of Two Cities_ from her bag, Katniss began scouring the chapters they were assigned to read (or sparknoted, in her case) for political symbolisms Mr. Heavensbee, her English teacher, was always quizzing them on during his infamous rapid fire quizzes. English had never been a strong subject for her, finding the books they read incredibly dull and full of nothing but tales about old white guys bemoaning about their manhoods, but grades was the one thing her mom actually paid attention to and hers were slipping in Heavensbee’s class due to these stupid quizzes. Her pencil circled another example, not feeling confident about it, but if her index card wasn’t pulled early on, all the obvious examples would be taken and this would be all she had to argue. 

“Good book?” She jumped, her head hitting the wall behind her, pencil stabbing her in the gums. Peeta Mellark stood in front of her, looking all casual in his dark denim jeans and grey shirt, his hands stuffed in his back pockets. He smiled at her scowl. “Sorry,” he said, and to her astonishment, it sounded like he actually meant it. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” 

“You didn’t,” she quickly informed, tucking her pencil in the book as a bookmark. “Just preparing to be publicly humiliated in English, that’s all. ”

“Heavensbee’s quizzes are brutal,” he agreed, still standing there, trying to be nonchalant, but his shoulders were way too tight to pull it off. It looked like it was taking all he had to be standing in front of her like this. Her hackles rose. Why should he look uncomfortable? _He_ sought _her_ out. If anything, she should be the one uncomfortable, caged in a corner like this. “I think I almost cried during one last week,” he continued, not even looking at her now but at the locker next to her head. “Marvel wouldn’t stop making fun of me after that.” That didn’t surprise her, but it felt rude to point out what a shit person she thought Marvel Baxter was to Peeta’s face. 

“Yeah.” Katniss tapped her book, unsure what else to say. “Listen, I’m kind of busy trying not to fail and all, Peeta, so unless you have a question…?”

Peeta rubbed the back of his neck and looked down at his Converse, taking a deep breath in. It was a little unsettling seeing him like this, she realized, still confused why he was talking to her to begin with. Normally he knew exactly what to say, in any given situation she’d ever seen him in. 

“Okay, seriously,” she said at last, a bit more snappish than she meant. “What do you want? I don’t have time watching you sputter like a dead fish.” 

“I want to see how you’re doing,” he said in one breath. It was a totally innocent question to ask, but it felt more like a punch to the stomach, sending her back to when she was 11 years old and standing next to her mother and Prim as strangers she barely knew came up and smothered her in tight, smelly hugs. They cried over how young Sage was, still in his prime, and _poor Cary_ , having to raise those two young girls on her own. The funeral had felt so surreal, her movements stiff and disjointed. Her voice hollow as she thanked the strangers for coming, trying not to cry in front of them as they passed. Her father’s death still hadn’t fully hit her yet and the only thing she wanted was to crawl into the casket with him and shake him awake, tell him this joke wasn’t funny any more. _Ha ha._ He got her. Now could he please get up so they could go home?

Katniss’ throat tightened at the sudden memory and she shoved her book in her bag, _really_ needing to go before she did something stupid, like cry in front of Peeta Mellark.

“I’m fine,” she said, trying to push past him. Peeta wasn’t only tall, but his wide frame stopped her from escaping as easily as she’d like. “Really.” 

“Katniss.” He grabbed her hand to stop her, but pulled away instantly, realizing he had no right to touch her. “You looked like you were about to cry out there and then you bolted—I wanted to see if you’re okay.” 

“I _wasn’t_ going to cry!” she snapped, her vision red now. There were only so many punches she could take in one class period, but it seemed the universe kept wanting to come for more. “I was doing _homework_ , Peeta, and then _you_ waltzed in, wanting to rub it in my face that I’m a terrible player. Were you hoping I’d cry? Is Cato secretly filming this?” She looked around the small room for Golden Ass’ burley frame. 

“Cato isn’t in here, Katniss,” he snapped back, then winced, realizing his mistake. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. What I _meant_ was: Abernathy is a complete asshole and he shouldn’t have said those things to you. Katniss, you’re the best player in the band and he knows it.” Any other day, hearing the sweet sentiment twice in one period would have been a real confidence booster for her, but today, it just felt like pity. Leevy felt sorry for her and now freaking Peeta Mellark felt sorry for her, too. What a blow _that_ felt, looking into his sad blue eyes right now. 

“I don’t want your pity,” she sneered, not knowing what else to say, but if he kept looking at her like that, she was definitely going to break down crying. Then he’d just look at her with that pathetic sad expression, feeling even more sorry for her. “Abernathy was right about my runs and I can handle his criticism like I do with everything else in my life: alone. So if you don’t mind.” And she tried to push past him. 

In typical Peeta fashion, he blocked her only exit. “I wasn’t pitying you, Katniss.” His tone sounded as sharp and annoyed as hers now. “I was being _nice._ I know you don’t know what that is because you think the whole world is out to get you, but it means _caring_ about other people and _being_ there for them _._ ” She looked down at her feet at the sudden weight of his accusation, her hand tightening around the strap of her backpack.

They were so engrossed in their argument, neither heard the familiar _clap clap clap_ of Miss Trinket’s heels before the small woman announced herself, causing them both to jump and turn to the small woman. 

“There you are!” the assistant director smiled. “Peeta, I have been calling your name. Didn’t you hear me?” 

Peeta glanced down at Katniss, his eyes still hard, before looking over at his teacher. “Sorry, Miss Trinket. Katniss and I were just... _talking_.” Why did he say it like that? He made it sound like they _weren’t_ talking and by the twinkle of amusement in Miss Trinket’s eyes, she suspected nothing else from two teenagers hiding in a back room. 

“I’m so sorry to interrupt your... _talking”_ —Katniss’ cheeks darkened again, wondering how fast it’d take for the rumors to start going around that she and Peeta were caught making out in the instrument locker room by Miss Trinket—“but I need to speak with you for a moment, Peeta. If you don’t mind?” She motioned for him to proceed ahead. 

Peeta’s eyebrows scrunched together. “Am I in trouble, ma’am?” 

“No, no!” their teacher assured. “Mr. Abernathy and I need to discuss something with you about this upcoming season. Nothing scary, I promise.” He went ahead with no further comment, his hands stuffed in his front pockets, as Miss Trinket hurried ahead to unlock the band office door. He didn’t look back at her as she stood there, hand still gripping her backpack, and somehow, that felt worse than his pity. 

_Katniss, I’m so sorry about your dad. It’s so not fair. How are you doing?_

_Katniss?_

_Katniss?_

_Are you there, Katniss? Hey, how are you doing?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! 
> 
> This got a little heavier than I originally anticipated, so I actually broke the chapter in half, but next chapter is going to get the ball rolling with these two. ;) 
> 
> Let me know what you think and if you want, come talk to me on tumblr! I am Captainseaweedbrains.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	4. May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! I'm back with another chapter. This chapter required a lot of revision, so hopefully everything makes sense and paces well. 
> 
> I'm so thankful for my dear friend Echosofnewords for helping me with this chapter. Honestly, you are the best, my dear, for talking through some tricky areas! <3
> 
> And a HUGE thank you to all who have reviewed! Honestly, it floors me and every comment/kudos/bookmark/message makes my day/week!! 
> 
> As always, all mistakes are mine. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**_May_ **

There wasn’t a single childhood memory Katniss could pull that didn’t involve Peeta Mellark. Try as she might to ever forget they were friends—and she tried her hardest to forget—it was next to impossible. Peeta and her were, once upon a time, inseparable. Glued at the hip. Her parents used to tease that only the moonlight could separate them and even then, in the summertime, Peeta spent many nights sleeping on the living room floor next to her, giggling as they watched movies and ate popcorn, Prim snoring beside them. 

And then with her dad being an avid photographer, there were boxes of family albums documenting Katniss and Prim growing up throughout the years. From first steps to bath times together to dance and music recitals—her dad documented it all. “For future biographers,” he used to joke whenever Katniss would complain why they always had to take a picture of _everything._ She’d roll her eyes in response and just let him snap away. There was no stopping the man. Now she wished she could take back all her tweenage-angst and let him take as many photos as he wanted of her. But she didn’t know what she knew now. Thus was life. 

On the rare occasion when he relented with the camera and accepted that she was not going to cooperate with any poses he suggested, Peeta was more than happy to step in and take her place, joking how his many admirers at school would kill for a candid photo of him. “It’s not candid if you’re posing, stupid,” she used to tell him, but he’d kindly tell her to shut her piehole and offer up suggestions on where to take the picture next, her dad eating Peeta’s enjoyment up with each click of the shutter. 

Peeta was in a _lot_ of her family photos. It was impossible to flip through any family album after Katniss had turned three and not find him. Due to his parents constantly working at their family bakery turned mini corporation, Peeta and his older brother Rye were often left to fend for themselves and from early morning until sundown, Rye would kick Peeta out of the house and lock the door. Rye’s dickish behavior was actually how the two met—Katniss hearing Peeta screaming across their yard, asking if he was dying because he was crying by his back door, fists slamming the glass. 

“No,” he sniffed, rubbing his puffy red eyes. “My brudder—l-l-locked—me—o-o- _ooout!_ ” Peeta hiccupped, his hysteria growing with each syllable until he was back to crying for Rye to let him in.

“My daddy’s makin’ pancakes,” Katniss offered from her deck. “He makes them with funny faces and makes them sing. Want some?” 

There probably should have been some type of introduction between them before Katniss invited this total stranger into her home, but when Peeta came in with her, her dad just smiled and told him to pull up a chair. Names were finally exchanged over gooey chocolate chip pancakes and they became instant friends. 

After that, instead of crying when Rye would inevitably lock him out of his own home, Peeta would cross over to the Everdeen’s yard and walk on in, shouting out his greetings to whoever was in the kitchen at the time and seeing what she or her dad were up to for the day. There were countless memories of Katniss coming downstairs after playing with Prim and finding Peeta and her dad casually working together on the morning crossword puzzle at the kitchen table, or out in her mother’s garden doing yard work and chatting about everything and anything. He was always there, ready to hang out and see what she had in mind for them to do that day, and their photo albums showed it. Birthday parties, family dinners, sleepovers, holidays—there Peeta was, all smiles and dimples.

Peeta Mellark was a huge fixture in the Everdeen household until one day he just wasn’t. One day he was there, making her laugh so hard, milk came out her nose, and the next, he was gone and those boxes of happy family photos were just sad reminders of what used to be. 

No dad.

No best friend. 

It was fine. _She_ was fine. 

Except maybe she wasn’t? It annoyed her that Peeta could still dig under her skin like that, his words in the locker room playing on repeat in her mind. At least her nerves about tryouts had a chance to calm down between stressing about Abernathy’s mocking jabs about her playing and her annoyance at Peeta thinking her a heartless loner. So what if she preferred to do things alone? It meant she was independent, mature for her young age. Was that such a bad thing? 

And what was up with accusing her of not being there for people? Not caring for them? Did she have to remind him that he made his choice and ditched _her_? That the second her dad died, he split? Was he ever really her friend, or was he just using her to get to her dad because his dad wasn’t around? Katniss had been wondering that for years, but didn’t have the courage to ask because she just knew if she did, she’d start to cry and shout at him and maybe shove him a bit and he and his stupid friends would laugh and probably call her a psychopath bitch.

What a fucking hypocrite Peeta Mellark was, calling her heartless when he was guilty of so much worse. 

The final bell rang at last, freeing everyone for the day. Katniss was so caught up in her anger over Peeta and Mr. Abernathy and really, just everyone at this point, that she almost forgot about the call sheet posting. Almost. As soon as Madge reminded her, asking if she wanted to walk over there with her and Gale, all those nerves resurfaced as they headed over to the band room. She kept discreetly wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, preparing herself to be disappointed, to expect someone like Glimmer to get it, but please, whoever was listening up there, please let her have made captain. If this crappy hellish day could give her just one thing, let it be that.

“I can’t look,” Katniss panicked when she saw the neon pink sign taped to the window connecting to the band office, halting in her steps. “If I didn’t make captain, I don’t know what I’ll do. Punch something?” 

Madge rolled her eyes and offered to check for her. “If Trinket didn’t make you captain, she clearly tripped in those heels and is suffering from some head trauma. Let’s see.” Her manicured finger scrolled down the long list of names until stopping on the Es. “Hm. Katniss, I don’t see your name on here at all.”

Her heart jolted. “What? That can’t be.” She wasn’t positive on being captain, but she was positive she’d at least make the _team_ . Were the theatre and dance kids really that much better? She shoved Gale and Madge aside, looking for her name. Abrams...Banks...Carroll...Daly...Edwards...Evans... _Everdeen!_ And there was an asterisk next to her name! She was captain of next season’s color guard!

“You asshole!” she laughed, shoving Madge in the shoulder. “I’m captain!” She couldn’t help the large smile stretching across her face. She was captain! 

“You are!” Madge cheered, giving her a big tight hug. “Congratulations, Katniss! I’m so proud of you!” 

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said, messing up her hair in a brotherly fashion. She shoved his hand away and gave a playful glare. “And what about my favorite guard member?” he asked, looking down at Madge. “Did you make it, too?” 

Madge gave him a sweet smile and looked further down the list before pumping her fists in excitement. “I did! I made it! Take that Shelly Shoemon from 4th grade for saying I had the coordination skills of a cow!” 

“Totally not surprised,” Gale said again, laughing as he pulled his girlfriend in for a kiss. They locked lips for a while before Katniss cleared her throat and suggested they get a room if they wanted to continue. The couple smiled, Madge’s freckled cheeks tinted pink, but broke apart, their hands remaining clasped together. 

“Should we head over to Sae’s for burgers and ice cream to celebrate?” Gale suggested. “Thom just paid me for fixing his car, so I have the cash to spend.” Both girls happily agreed to his suggestion, excited to share the news with Sae, the diner’s owner and local grandmother to anyone under the age of 40. Good news didn’t feel real until sharing it with Sae. 

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket shouted from somewhere in her office, “is that you?” Her head popped out the doorway, startling the three. “Excellent, dear! I’ve been waiting to speak with you about something. Come in! Come in!” Her hand motioned for her to follow.

“Oh.” Katniss looked over at Gale and Madge, unsure what to say. “Am I in trouble?” 

Miss Trinket laughed. “No, not at all! I just need to discuss some color guard things with my new _captain_.” She sang the last word, putting great emphasis on the middle consonants, and glared behind her at, presumably, Mr. Abernathy who probably said something rude in a remark.

“Sure, yeah,” Katniss said, feeling a bit dumb. Of course Miss Trinket wanted to jump right into the thick of things. The woman was the Energizer Bunny on crack when it came to choreography and scheduling. Of course she’d want to talk to her _captain_ about the game plan and how she expected they execute it. “I’m free to talk.” Miss Trinket smiled and stepped back in her office. 

Katniss turned to Madge and Gale, wearing an apologetic smile . “I’ll meet you at Sae’s?” They nodded, not minding the wait, and wished her luck, telling her to text when she was leaving school.

* * *

The first thing Katniss noticed amiss when stepping into the adjoined office was Peeta Mellark casually sitting there in front of Mr. Abernathy’s desk, flipping through a pile of sheet music. It wasn’t unusual for band students to volunteer time helping the surly man try to keep the band program organized, but it seemed a little late for a volunteer to still be in here. Abernathy and Trinket were a lot to take and only bearable in small, manageable doses. Most booked it the second the bell rang. 

She paused in the doorway, unsure if she misunderstood Miss Trinket. She meant for them to talk _now_ , right? So what was Peeta doing here?

“Ah, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, sifting through a stack of notes, not noticing her hesitation. “Take a seat, please.” She motioned to the wooden chair in front of her desk. 

Still unsure what was going on, Katniss gingerly sat down in the offered chair, her bag in her lap, and waited to see what exactly Miss Trinket wanted to talk about with Peeta still here. Guard stuff wasn’t technically _private_ , but it’s not like it was riveting information either. Something didn’t feel right here.

Miss Trinket cleared her throat, catching Katniss’ attention from _not_ looking at Peeta, and folded her hands on top of her desk with a bright, fluorescent smile. “Katniss, I want to be the first to congratulate you on a job well done. Your audition was truly inspiring. Honestly, I wish I could have taped it to show future guard members what true dedication looks like.” Katniss’ cheeks darkened at her director’s lavish compliments. 

“Thank you, Miss Trinket,” she said quietly, feeling a tad uncomfortable being told this in front of Peeta and Mr. Abernathy. “I tried my hardest.” 

“And it shows, dear. It truly shows.” The assistant director looked down at her notes, reading from one of the piles she was sifting through earlier, her long fingernails idly tapping the top metal surface in thought. “In fact,” she said, “I was so impressed with your audition, I’ve decided to make you a very prominent figure in this season’s show. The show’s leading star, as it were.” 

“I’m—um. What?” And then Miss Trinket proceeded to happily explain her vision for how their band was going to tell the tragic tale of Romeo and Juliet, with the occasional grunts from Mr. Abernathy here and there. She explained how she envisioned the houses being represented by the color guard and drumline, feuding together on the field as the music from the band crescendos to the climatic finish.

“Next to you, Katniss,” Miss Trinket said, holding up what looked like a handwritten list of names, “I haven’t quite decided who will play who for color guard, but we have time to iron out these details, dear. What concerns me is how long it is taking Boggs to decide who made it for drumline.” Her eyes slitted at Abernathy. “It seems _someone_ forgot to pass along the deadline I imposed so we could avoid this exact problem.” Mr. Abernathy just gave a noncommittal shrug and continued flipping through the scorebook he was looking at. Miss Trinket rubbed at the corner of her eyes and gave Katniss an exasperated look before continuing on. 

“It took some wheedling to get him to bend to my will, but I do believe many of our seasonal veterans are returning to drumline this year, Peeta being one of them.” She smiled warmly at the boy. For someone finding out good news, Peeta looked bored out of his mind sitting there, listening as Miss Trinket prattled on about visions and forbidden love and what this will mean for the band come competition season.

This all felt like a lot. Like _a lot_ a lot. 

“So let me get this straight,” Katniss said slowly, trying to process it all and not throw up like her stomach wanted. “You want me to be Juliet? Like the Juliet who falls in love and dies at the end? That Juliet?”

If it was at all possible, Miss Trinket’s smile grew, making Katniss feel even sicker. “The very one, my dear! Oh, Katniss, I cannot tell you how _thrilled_ I am to have you as our Juliet. I’ve had my guesses who you’d play for a while now, since I decided we should do _Romeo & Juliet _a few months back, really.” Mr. Abernathy snorted at that but said nothing to contradict her. “But now, after seeing how much you’ve improved since last season? Truly inspiring! And with your tiny frame, I think we can finally bring air flips into the mix now! Wouldn’t that look amazing under stadium lights?”

Katniss really felt like she was going to be sick now. “You want me to be a spotlight guard?” Her voice sounded a bit squeaky to her ears. “But that’s—I’ve never been a spotlight guard before! Especially not something to that kind of scale. They’re, like, really important. Like judges _judging_ them important.” 

It was Peeta’s turn to laugh next to her, trying to cover it up with a cough when she turned to glare at him. _Why was he here?_

Katniss took a deep breath in to try and quiet the loud ringing noise suddenly blaring in her ears. She was clearly not making a first good impression as captain, but this was so unexpected! Miss Trinket had never had her be a spotlight before. Ever. It was one thing being captain, but _this_ , having her performance carry the entire story? Yeah, no thanks. 

“Are you sure you want it to be me?” she asked, her voice a lot calmer than she felt. “I was thinking you’d want someone like Madge—or Glimmer—for something this important. You’re always saying how swan-like Glimmer is on the field. Don’t you want Juliet to look like a swan?” 

“Told you she wouldn’t be for it,” Peeta muttered next to her, a knowing smile on his face as he shook his head in amusement. Oh, he just thought he knew everything about her, didn’t he? Like he was some Katniss Everdeen expert.

“Why are you even here?” she finally asked him. “This clearly has nothing to do with you. Can’t you file music somewhere else?” 

“Isn’t it a bit obvious why I’m here, Katniss?” he asked her incredulously, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed. “I thought you were more observant than this.”

Before she could reply, Miss Trinket held her hands up. “Enough! Peeta, I’ll kindly ask you to please sit there quietly, as we discussed.” _Discussed?_ When did they have time to discuss this? Then she remembered earlier. Miss Trinket needing to speak with Peeta, breaking up their argument. They were discussing _her?_ Why did Peeta have to know that Miss Trinket wanted her as Juliet. She was clearly missing something obvious, like Peeta said, but her mind was shot. Barely able to process anything anymore as her anxiety kicked into gear. 

“And, Katniss.” She looked up at the sound of her name. “Please keep an open mind about this. I understand to some, being a lead is scary, but trust me when I say, I have my absolute faith in you. 

“Madge and Glimmer are talented girls, yes,” Miss Trinket explained, “but I’m afraid they are too tall for what I have in mind for choreography. You know how important these things can be. We need someone petite like you, Katniss. Someone Peeta can easily pick up and twirl without fear of dropping.” She motioned a manicured hand at Peeta, his face staring at her expectantly. 

But Katniss’ brain was still running in circles. “Peeta’s not on guard. Why would he be picking me up?” 

Miss Trinket’s patient smile looked strained now. “As I already told you,” she said slowly, surely believing Katniss dense now, “Guard and drumline will be representing the two houses. Guard will be Capulet and drumline Montague. Peeta’s on drumline, so naturally he’d be our star Montague.” 

Her mind finally caught up to what everyone was suggesting. “Wait,” she said, sitting at the edge of her seat now. “If I’m Juliet and you’re saying he’s the star…” Her focus drifted to Peeta, who gave an amused, cocky wave, surely enjoying the multitude of emotions crossing her face in this moment. Her stomach dropped, this news hitting her harder than the spotlight one. “ _You’re_ Romeo?” 

Instead of just answering with a simple yes/no like a normal person, or even some _Ding! Ding! Ding!_ joke, Peeta lowered himself to the floor and responded in all his annoyingly obnoxious flair: _“‘But, soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Juliet is the sun.’”_ He closed his eyes on the last word and reached for her hand, giving it a gentle kiss, his lips soft and warm against her now clammy skin. She swatted her hand away, tucking it around her bag for protection. 

No. No, no, no. _No!_

This had to be a mistake. Her and Peeta Mellark? As Romeo and Juliet? 

_That_ was what Miss Trinket wanted to talk to him about, she realized. It wasn’t about her at all. She wanted to talk to him about being Romeo for the field show. 

“I don’t understand,” Katniss said at last, when her stomach had finally recovered itself. “How can _Peeta_ be Romeo when he’s going to be busy marching around with a snare drum? What about Finnick? He’s tall. Taller than Peeta, for sure. I’m sure he could just as easily lift me.” 

Was she seriously that desperate to prefer the preening peacock Finnick Odair? 

Yes, yes she was. 

“Finnick will most likely play our Tybalt,” Miss Trinket remarked. “And as he is on guard, he will play a Capulet role.” 

“What about gender bending the role?” Katniss suggested. “Who says Juliet has to be a girl? We _are_ in the 21st century. And didn’t Shakespeare have men play the female roles, anyway? Let Finnick play Juliet to Peeta’s Romeo. He’d be perfect in the role.” 

“Should I feel insulted that you don’t want to be my partner, Katniss?” Peeta innocently asked, enjoying this way too much. Her fists gripped her bag hard, her eyes deadly slits. People often told her how intimidating she looked, but Peeta didn’t even bat an eye. He was all smiles and dimples. If only looks could kill...

“Katniss,” Miss Trinket said curtly, snapping her attention back on the director, “I chose you as my next in command because I trust in your talent and know you are a driven young woman who people look up to. Now we both want the pleasure of seeing this band win first place at PSU, don’t we?” 

“Yes, but—” 

“And we will do what is necessary to move this band toward that goal, correct?” 

“Of course, but—” 

“But nothing, Everdeen,” Mr. Abernathy interjected at last, kicking his feet off the tall pile of sheet music laying by his desk. “You want to win?” He shook his hand at her, not needing a response. “Stupid question. Of course you do. I can see it all over your face. You’re too competitive to hide it. Well, to win you have to please the judges. Plain and simple. Judges like this kind of flair nonsense. So play our star-crossed lovers—” 

“We’re _not_ star-crossed lovers!” Katniss grit out, a bit harder than she intended, unable to look at Peeta as she said it. Not like it mattered. She could practically feel his amusement radiating off his person. “This won’t work, Mr. Abernathy. Don’t you want people who’ll get along? Peeta and I hate each other. We have for a really long time.” 

“Who cares?” Mr. Abernathy asked, throwing his hands up in exasperation, his longish black hair falling in his face from the motion. “Pretend. Act like your lovesick classmates. I don’t care. It’s all a big show, anyway, and if pairing you two up wins us enough brownie points to win and shuts Trinket up for a year, then that’s what we’re going to do. Mellark’s already agreed to it and he’s never danced a day in his life. So now it’s your turn to be a good girl and agree to the plan, Everdeen. Got it?” 

“Got it,” she muttered, slouching low in her chair. Of all the things she expected to hear today, pretending to be in love with Peeta Mellark was not one of them. This was definitely going to blow up in everyone’s faces, she was sure of it. Putting on a performance smile for judges was one thing, but acting like she was in love with Peeta was another. And then hoping he wouldn’t drop her when doing those stupid flips Miss Trinket mentioned? She was going to be in a body cast by the end of the season.

Peeta seemed to have dropped the amusement act at last, mirroring her sour mood as the two directors discussed extra one-on-one rehearsal time with Miss Trinket to better prepare Peeta since he had zero dance experience. Katniss tried to pay attention, but she couldn’t stop her eyes from glancing over at Peeta, wondering what he could possibly be thinking during all this. His jaw was clenched, she could tell, but he wasn’t looking at her or Trinket or even Abernathy. He was focusing on picking at a hole in his jeans, his eyebrows scrunched together. She understood the conflict—was feeling it herself—but he didn’t look _mad._ Just...troubled. Like something was said that he was having a hard time with.

 _Where to begin?_ Katniss thought bitterly, still unable to believe they were actually being forced to play Romeo and Juliet, like they were in some teenage drama or something.

“I know we have lots to work on, but just seeing the two of you together like this,” Miss Trinket said, motioning between them, “tells me I made the right decision. Look how adorable you two look! Pearls on a necklace! Didn’t I say that’s what they reminded me of, Haymitch?” She turned to Abernathy, who was now busy digging dirt from under his nails with his baton. Miss Trinket frowned before catching herself. “I did, I _did!_ I said that earlier when I found you _talking_ in the back.” She winked and oh god. Could they just go already?

* * *

It took another fifteen minutes of talking and goodbyes that were very much _not_ goodbyes before they were truly free from the office. Katniss bolted out the side door as quickly as she could, cursing under her breath at how long she’d been in there. That took almost an hour! Madge and Gale were probably wondering what was taking so long. Or maybe not. It was Trinket, after all. 

The parking lot was nearly empty now as she crossed it, digging around for her battered up phone to text. Hopefully they were still up for burgers because after that talk...yeah. She needed the greasiest burger available. Wait until she tells her friends she’s playing Juliet and that Peeta Mellark was her Romeo. They might not believe her, thinking it a practical joke and asking what Trinket really wanted. That’s how absurd this whole situation sounded. 

“Katniss!” she heard her name called out. “Hey, wait up!” She turned and saw Peeta waving her down, his long legs quickly catching up to her. Part of her wanted to pretend she didn’t hear him and keep moving, her car just across the street from where she stood. It’d be a safer bet, too, moving along, because nothing good was ever said when she was upset. This afternoon being a prime example. But for some reason, she was curious what Peeta had to say about all this. She stopped at the street corner and pretended to check for traffic despite the road being empty of any moving vehicle. 

“Damn,” he laughed, a bit breathless as he caught up next to her. “I forgot how fast your fight or flight response is.” 

“I’m not fleeing,” she frowned, checking the street for real this time before crossing. She dug around the front pocket of her book bag, pulling out both her keys and phone. “School’s done and I’m going to Sae’s with Gale and Madge. You know, my _friends._ ”

“I know who Gale and Madge are.” 

“Just checking,” she stated cooly, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “since you practically accused me of having none earlier.” 

He winced. “Yeah, not the finest thing I’ve ever said. I’m sorry about that.” 

She shrugged. “It’s fine, Peeta.” It wasn’t, but if she kept telling herself that, maybe she’ll believe it. “We can’t all be Mr. Popular like you.” 

“Right.” He looked back at the student parking lot where he parked. Unlike her family, his could afford the $350 the school charged for a parking space. “Listen, about what you said in there. About us hating each other.” Katniss raised an eyebrow, curious where this would lead. “I don’t... _hate_ you.” 

Well that was...unexpected. Was that why he looked so troubled in the meeting? Because she said they hated each other? She took a step back from him, realizing he was closer than she felt comfortable with, and waited for the rest of it. It didn’t sound like he was finished, like there was a big _but_ hanging at the end of his sentence. What else did he want to say? _But_ I still don’t really like you? _But_ I think you’re annoying and working with you is going to suck? _But_ I think you’re a bitch? Honestly, the list could go on about all the negative things Peeta could say about her, but he said nothing. He just looked down at his shoes and kicked at some loose pebbles in the street. 

“Oh,” she said, unsure what else there was to say. “I guess that will make rehearsal easier.” 

He nodded, a bit too jerky to look natural. “Yeah. I just—it’s important to me that you know that I don’t hate you. I’ve never hated you. Mad beyond belief? Yeah. Lots of times, actually. But never hate. I could never hate you, Katniss.”

“Oh,” she said again, dumbfounded. “Well, thanks, Peeta. I guess. That’s... Good to know.” And just because her sour mood couldn’t help itself, “I’ll be able to sleep happy tonight knowing you don’t hate me.” She made a face, instantly regretting her words, and yanked open her car door, needing to just _leave._ “Listen, I gotta go. Gale and Madge are already waiting for me and Trinket took forever rambling about how we’re pearl necklaces. They’re waiting for me.” 

He didn’t say anything as she got in the car, the loud, embarrassing screech of her engine once on making any type of conversation near impossible to hold. He stepped away and gave a halfhearted wave, all bravado gone now, as she pulled away from the curb. By the time she thought to wave back, it was too late and her car was halfway down the street. 

God, she really was a heartless bitch.

* * *

It was only hours later—after returning home from drowning her frustrations in the thickest chocolate shake Sae could make and celebrating her good news with her mom and sister over pizza—did she allow herself to think about Peeta Mellark. 

On a whim, she pulled the framed photo she kept of her and her dad off her nightstand and held it, her grip tightening as she studied the ridiculous faces they’re making at the camera. It was one of the last pictures they took together before his passing. She can’t remember what prompted them to make the faces, but she wished she could go back and make them again with him. To be with her dad for just one more day. One more hour, even. She’d do anything for that. 

Katniss closed her eyes and hugged the frame close to her chest for a moment, trying to stop any tears from slipping past her tight emotional control. She was safe to cry in her room, but wanted to wait until she was in bed with the lights turned off before crying over this emotionally draining day. 

When it felt like she had her emotions under control, Katniss used her longest fingernail to lift the tabs on the back of the frame and carefully took the picture out, unfolding the right-half of it to reveal a young curly-haired Peeta smiling up at her, her dad’s arm thrown over his shoulders. 

She stared at the full photo for the longest time, remembering how mad she was at him for taking this one simple thing from her. She never minded Peeta being in her family photos before. She sometimes pulled him in for ones when her dad or mom shouted, “Picture time! Show us your pearly whites!” But that was when she still thought they’d have more time. Why wouldn’t there be more time? Dads weren’t supposed to die until you were old and had kids of your own. That’s how it was _supposed_ to be. They weren’t supposed to die when you’re eleven and barely old enough to understand the cruelty of the world. The unfairness of it all. 

Katniss barely remembered a time when it was just her and her dad. Alone. No Peeta. No Prim. Just Dad and her. 

She didn’t even have a good photo of just the two of them.

Just boxes upon boxes of photos of him, her, and Peeta. 

The magical trio.

The full photo didn’t bring up any past resentment this time, though. Instead, it reminded her how much fun the three of them used to have, bumming around town while Aunt Lulu watched Prim at her shop, singing along to the radio and playing Punch Buggy. Her dad always made it a point to include Peeta on any outing they made, even if it involved going to the grocery store. _How disappointed Dad would be seeing us now_ , she thought, tracing over his face with her thumb. Her and Peeta not friends anymore.

But Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate her. Katniss didn’t understand why hearing that felt like a weight had lifted off her, but she felt lighter now, the more she thought about it. Like it was easier to breathe again.

“Peeta Mellark doesn’t hate me,” she whispered to the photo, the words tasting sweet on her tongue. A small smile pulled at her lips and she said it again. “He doesn’t hate me, Dad.” 

Katniss didn’t understand why Peeta thought it was important she knew he didn’t hate her, but it was all her mind kept thinking of, and she was glad to hear it. 

He didn’t hate her. He never had.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo! We are finally getting this ball rolling!! 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the chapter and were as amused as Peeta was by it. :P 
> 
> Please let me know what you think and if you want to come talk to me on Tumblr, I'm Captainseaweebrains. 
> 
> Thanks for reading, my friends!


	5. June

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all! I have returned! Apologies for how long it has been since I have updated. Life has been crazy between 2020 in general and the US election anxieties--it made it really hard to sit down and focus!
> 
> Huge huge thanks to Cate for editing this chapter and for pushing me to finish it. You are truly the best! Any mistakes found are my own. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy and let me know what you think!

_June_

“Peeta really isn’t that bad,” Madge said for what felt like the millionth time. Katniss rolled her eyes and flipped the page of her magazine. Ever since learning that Peeta was going to be the Romeo to Katniss’ Juliet, Madge had been defending him every chance she got. “He’s really not. And he’s _so_ smart, Katniss. Picks up on things real quickly. So all this moping around you’ve been doing all week is stupid.”

Katniss frowned and shoved her sunglasses further up her nose, preferring the screams of the children running around them on the pool deck to Madge defending Peeta Mellark to her _once again._ Was she being overly dramatic about this? _Maybe._ Was Madge right that Peeta wasn’t as bad as she made him out to be? _Perhaps._ But it still sucked and she couldn’t stop complaining about it.

“I know you’re Team Peeta,” she sighed, “but would it kill you to see things from my perspective just this once? Isn’t that what girl friends are supposed to do? Side with their other girl friends?”

“Maybe if you were right about him being a bad person, I would,” Madge sniffed, picking up her own gossip magazine to flip through. “But as of right now, you’ve provided me no evidence in support of your claim.” It was times like these Katniss wished her friend wasn’t the daughter of a prestigious lawyer.

“Gale sides with me,” she argued, pointing at her tall friend standing in line between two twelve-year-old kids for their slushies. “Doesn’t that count for anything on my behalf?”

“Gale’s an idiot.”

“An idiot you’re dating.” Madge stuck her tongue out at that, unable to refute her long-standing relationship with Gale and Katniss smiled. Of all the relationships she’d seen throughout the years—and band romances had provided plenty of weird, random romances, the weirdest being Johanna Mason and Melinda “Cashmere” Hewitt—Madge and Gale’s was the only one she saw that made no sense on paper yet made complete sense in person. The spoiled rich girl with a heart of gold and the rough-around-the-edges boy from the bad part of town? She never used to buy it in the movies, thinking the concept too ridiculous, but Madge and Gale proved her wrong time and time again.

Even when they had broken up sophomore year, claiming they were just too different, Katniss was still proven wrong because they couldn’t shut up about each other—griping about _how she just didn’t understand_ and _he always has to be right_ and _I can’t_ believe _I lost my virginity to_ that, a fact Katniss could have gone her whole life not knowing. When they got back together, it was hard to say who was more thrilled about it: the happy couple or Katniss.

“Come on, Madge,” she sighed, flopping back in her lounge seat. “Why must you always be the diplomatic one?”

“Someone has to be between your impulsiveness and Gale’s anarchy attitude.”

“Did someone say anarchy?” the anarchist himself joked, handing Madge her lime-flavored slushie with a kiss on the lips for a tip. He handed Katniss her watermelon one and jokingly asked where his tip was. Katniss threw her three dollars at him with a “Keep the change” rebuttal. Gale laughed and pocketed the cash, lifting Madge’s legs up and over onto his lap so he could sit.

“So what did I miss?”

Madge snorted and offered her boyfriend a sip of her slushie. “Here’s a hint: it’s Katniss’ favorite subject.”

Gale rolled his eyes and accepted the drink. “Mellark again?” He took a large sip and winced at the sudden brain freeze, handing the large cup back. “God, I’m so sick of hearing about that guy. Katniss, get over it and move on already.” Even Gale was getting sick of her talking about it? Somehow, that hit lower on the pathetic scale. Gale was her complaining companion. Her bitch buddy. The person she reserved all her annoyances for because she knew he’d have his own trivial things to complain about. Hell, their friendship was _founded_ upon complaining, starting in 8th Grade Science when their teacher kept giving them busy work to cope with the very public scandal of his wife sleeping with their school principal. They complained about everything with each other.

And now even Gale had said enough.

Well this sucked.

“Fine,” she said, not really feeling fine about it. “I won’t talk about it anymore.” Her friends looked doubtful. “I mean it! No more talk of Peeta Mellark and how my whole summer is practically ruined because I have to have extra practices to teach him how to dance on the field. And I’m not going to talk about how that cuts into my shifts at Aunt LuLu’s store, which means my spending money is going to be next to _nothing_ by the time school starts. So if you two ever want to do anything more fun than hanging around the school parking lot, I guess you’re shit out of luck.”

Gale smiled sweetly at Madge. “I’m so glad she’s not talking about it anymore.” Katniss scowled and gave them the middle finger, causing them both to laugh.

“I think you both are very biased over this whole thing,” Katniss said after a while. Gale and Madge didn’t say anything, too focused on tanning and summer reading homework. That didn’t seem to stop Katniss from continuing. “You’re both too friendly with him because of classes and band. He’s gotten to you.”

“One of us is biased,” Gale said, “and it’s not us. It’s you. You’ve hated him for as long as I’ve known you.”

“With good reason!” she huffed, crossing her arms. They didn’t ask her to elaborate on that, already making it clear they were done talking about Peeta Mellark and all the annoyances he brought to her life, and she hated the fact that she _did_ want to keep talking about him. About marching band. About the whole stupid situation. But she kept her promise and kept her mouth shut. 

No one said anything further until Madge declared herself starving and Gale suggested they stuff their faces with greasy burgers and fries at Sae’s.

* * *

Sae’s Diner was packed with its usual lunch crowd—men and women from the factories nearby on lunch, sitting at the worn pastel-colored counter; a couple of kids they recognized from school goofing off in the corner booth, shooting straw wrappers off the straws; and a book club filled with women in their fifties discussing some brick of a book over coffee and Sae’s famous blueberry and cream pie sitting in the center of the small diner. The old woman herself smiled warmly at them when they’d walked in, asking if they were wanting the usual. 

“You’re the best, Sae,” Gale thanked as they waved and headed to their booth next to the front door. 

As they waited for their cheeseburgers and chocolate milkshakes, Gale chatted about some war movie he and his brothers saw that sounded god awful boring, no matter how much he tried re-explaining the plot to them. Madge and Katniss rolled their eyes and told him if he wanted to see the movie again so badly, to go see it by himself. “I’m not going to the movies by myself like some weirdo,” he scoffed, taking his hands off the table as the waitress deposited their plates of food and drinks. 

“Why not?” Katniss asked, picking up a french fry to dip into her milkshake. “I do it all the time.” 

“Because you hate people.” 

“So do you.” He shrugged, not having much to argue there, and picked up his burger. 

“So what time is Trinket summoning you tomorrow?” Gale asked, changing the subject completely, and tearing into his burger. Grease dripped down his hands and Madge tossed a pile of napkins at him. He accepted with a smile and slid his side of pickles over to her, something he purposely ordered more of because he knew how much she liked them. Madge happily bit into one, her eyes gazing at him with such adoration, Katniss rolled her eyes. Their coupling was too much for her sometimes. 

“I thought you didn’t want me talking about marching band,” she said innocently enough, taking a bite into her own burger.

“I didn’t want you talking about _Mellark_ ,” he said pointedly, wagging a fry at her. “Marching band is different. Less annoying and less boy drama. So what time does Miss Cream Puff have you coming in?”

It irritated her that Gale simplified her great dislike for Peeta Mellark as mere _boy drama_ because it was far more complicated than that, but there was no point trying to explain it to Gale. He understood a lot about her, but when it came to Peeta… Well, it was best to let him believe whatever he wanted. “Eight a.m. sharp,” she said sourly, dipping another french fry into her milkshake.

Gale winced. “That sucks. Why so early?” 

“Peeta couldn’t get out of working his afternoon shifts and it was either that or not have a single weekend off until November.” She was still bitter about the change in schedule. Originally Miss Trinket wanted them twice a week outside of color guard’s normal rehearsal times, but with Peeta’s work schedule not being as flexible as Katniss’, she’d decided to make it morning rehearsals and make those shorter, which forced them to add another day of rehearsal to make up for the cut time. Now instead of having rehearsal four times a week, Katniss had five with her weekends full of shifts at Aunt LuLu’s shop for the extra cash she desperately needed. This summer was going to blow.

“I still think you should’ve been picked for Juliet,” Katniss told Madge teasingly. “You and Gale, maybe?” she cooed. “The true star-crossed lovers of Athens Ridge.” 

Gale scowled. “I’d rather drop dead than have to deal with Trinket when she’s in choreographer mode. She’s a total tyrant.” 

“She’s not so bad once you get used to her.” 

“Tell me what you think after dealing with her for a whole season, oh captain, my captain.” 

Point taken.

Much like at the pool, they talked for a bit about things going on in their lives—Madge taking some online French class because her grades last semester weren’t great; Gale’s successful find for parts with Thom in the junkyard. Katniss didn’t say much as she munched on her burger and fries, afraid Madge would lecture her again on Peeta Mellark and her inability to let things go with him. That and she promised she was done talking about him. But outside of marching band and _him_ , not much was going on in her life. She felt a bit pathetic about that. 

Conversation picked up when Sae came over, asking how things were doing. The three smiled at the old woman, happy to fill her in on all the small details of their lives. Sae was the unofficial grandmother of the Seam. Always there to show her support for her kiddos. Her small diner was covered with pictures of sports teams she’s sponsored over the years, pictures of her and kids dressed in dance gear, holding certificates. 

“Did you hear the news about Katniss, Sae?” Madge asked when the topic of marching band came up. Sae was always interested in that, loving watching her talented kids play as they wove around the field. “She’s going to be our Juliet this year! Isn’t that exciting?” 

Sae’s grey eyes warmed, turning to Katniss. “Is that so? Captain _and_ the lead part?” She shook her head in astonishment, her salt and peppered colored hair coming loose from her hair tie. “You were always so talented with those flags. I’m not surprised. Who’s your Romeo?” 

“Peeta Mellark.” The name felt lodged in her throat, but thankfully, it squeezed out without too much of a squeak in her voice. 

Sae didn’t know all the kids on the west side, but she definitely knew Peeta. He would often tag along with her and her dad on their trips to the woods, stopping at the diner after for hot chocolate and pie. In fact, his picture was one of the first ones you saw coming in—Sae and six-year-old Peeta smiling at the camera, her arm around him as he proudly held up his lost baby tooth. Her dad had taken the picture, she remembered, and if the camera’s lens had shifted a little more to the right, it would have also captured five-year-old Katniss pouting on the side, upset that he kept losing his baby teeth when she’d lost none. It was a picture her gaze avoided whenever they visited Sae’s, unable to stomach the sight of an old friend turned asshole, the memory of her dad’s laughter as he took the photo. 

“Oh, Peeta,” Sae chuckled, the familiar twinkle she always got in her eyes when he was around. The old woman doted on him when they were kids and he ate up her attention like there was no tomorrow. “How is that boy? Staying out of mischief, I hope?” 

Gale and Madge looked to her with knowing smiles, wondering what she would say. Katniss cleared her throat and looked down at her half-eaten plate for a moment. “Fine, I guess. We don’t hang out anymore. You know that, Sae.” 

She did know that, but it never stopped her from asking whenever he came up. “Aye, girl, I do. I suppose you aren’t happy with Effie Trinket’s choice, then?” 

Gale snorted. “Happy? More like obsessively pissed. She hasn’t shut up about it since May.” She glared at her friend and he shrugged, popping a fry in his mouth. “What? You haven’t.” 

Sae gave one of her warm, crooked teeth smiles. “Maybe this is the push you kiddos need to kiss and make up.” Katniss’ cheeks warmed at the mention of kisses, remembering Leevy’s comment how they were so going to have sex by the end of the year. She still hadn’t fully forgiven her friend for _that_ suggestion.

“I’m afraid that’s impossible, Sae,” she said, her voice still a little strained. “We’re just too different.” 

“Ah, well. I suppose we grow in different directions sometimes,” the woman sighed with a shake of her head. A woman from the book club table called for her and Sae gave them a parting wave and smile. “Tell Peeta ol’ Sae misses her boy and that he needs to come in more. I haven’t seen him in ages.”

Katniss pointedly avoided Gale and Madge’s amused smirks, focusing on the burger in front of her. “I’ll be sure to pass the message along,” she muttered, taking a big bite of her food to avoid continuing this conversation. She loved Sae. Thought of her like a grandmother. But there was no way in hell was she telling Peeta that. No way. Then he’d think she was gushing about him to anyone who would listen, _thrilled_ to be his Juliet, a role many girls at school would kill for (Probably. Maybe. She thinks.), and then his stupid ego would just get bigger and he’d be even more obnoxious to deal with. No, best not to mention anything and lie next time she saw Sae. 

A small part felt guilty at that, though, because Sae _was_ like a grandma who wanted the best for her, and Peeta too, she guessed, but again, Sae didn’t _know_ what happened between them. And Katniss wasn’t going to fill her in on their broken history six years too late. 

Her phone next to her plate vibrated, signifying a text message just came in. Wiping her greasy hands, Katniss frowned, picking up her phone. Who was texting her? Everyone who’d text her was either sitting right across from her or were busy at work or camp. The little text message lit up at her touch, showing it was from an unknown number, and her frown turned into a scowl as she read it. 

_Hey!!!!!!!!!1!1111!!!!!!!_ the message read with a thousand typo-filled exclamation marks. God, who text like that? _Trinket gave me ur ######## Hope thats cool. Thought Id give mine!!!!!!!111111_ 😘😘 _Ill see u Mon dearest Juliet_ ❤️❤️❤️❤️ _!!!!!!!!!!!!111!_ 😘😘😘😘 _!!!111!!!!!!_

For the briefest of seconds, Katniss swore her vision blacked out. One moment she was staring at her phone. The next, darkness. Like her brain couldn’t process the simple text on her phone and chose to shut down instead. When her vision cleared, the message was still there, glaring brightly at her with those thousand exclamation/number marks. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. He had her number.

Her stomach churned and now she feared that what her mother always warned about Sae’s greasy food would come true now and she’d throw it all up. 

Peeta Mellark texted her. It was truly official. He had her number and she had his and they were _partners_ now. If she had any doubts about this whole thing before—as if she had dreamt the last four weeks of her life—they were wiped clean now. Replaced with this typo-filled text message from the very boy who hurt her. 

“You okay?” Madge asked.

Katniss nodded and clicked out of the message, tossing the phone into her bag. She’d deal with it later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed. This was more of a filler chapter, which I apologize for due to the wait, but next chapter we are definitely getting some Everlark time! 
> 
> Let me know what you think and come talk with me on Tumblr! I am Captainseaweedbrains. :)

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! I'm hoping to post every Monday. 
> 
> Come talk to me on Tumblr! I am Captainseaweedbrains.


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